Eternal Pain and Suffering
by Sempai Sunny
Summary: Legato muses after his final meeting with Vash the Stampede. slight yaoi. R&R if you wish. just strange, and written on recycled air


AH! The first of my two psychotic Legato fics which I came up with on recycled air (ergo psychotic....kinda like Knives). NO OWN TRIGUN!

Legato: You know, I don't appreciate this.

Sunny: Tough. Spoilers for episode 24

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Eternal Pain and Suffering

"I understand, master. Vash the Stampede will experience eternal pain and suffering." My last thoughts echoed my final words to my master, Knives Millions.

My spirit became detached from my body. You couldn't really call it my soul, since I really had none. I hadn't had one since the day I started to work for my master. 

I hovered above my body for a while, watching the scenes that played out before me.

The villagers I had controlled with my mind fell out of their stupor, releasing the irritating girls who followed Vash around. The girls immediately ran to the gunman, who had apparently passed out due to his excessive wounds, mostly caused by my right-hand man in mayhem, Midvally the Horn Freak.

The girls carried Vash away, with much difficulty. I saw the shorter one cast a withering glance of loathing at my corpse before they vanished around the bend.

I was soon all alone on the hill, like I had been less than an hour before. I was right, a miserable existence such as mine didn't deserve to go on. And yet, an emotion, not unfamiliar, but deeply buried, arose within my spirit. I identified it as pain.

How strange that I, the most lethal of the Gung-Ho Guns, the one who could wipe out a city with a mere thought, who had devoted his life to pain, fascinated by the essence of death, I was upset about dying alone, feeling my own pain.

My master had told me of his foolish brother's lamentations on loneliness. Then, I had listened with disdain, possibly a tad of amusement lurking deep within. Now, it came back and mocked me, laughing in my face.

As this memory laughed at me, a figure approached my corpse. It had appeared out of nowhere, shrouded. Another feeling, this one truly foreign, except for maybe when I had first encountered Knives, sparked my spirit. I identified it as fear.

My spirit cried out for my master. I longed to hear him call my name, to tell me I had done an excellent job. Coming up with the idea of Vash murdering me was my most ingenious scheme to date, though it was my last. Vash would never be able to bear the burden of taking my life. It was perfect.

And yet, I felt my spirit in pain, lonesome for someone who I had let myself fall in love with, someone I knew would never love me back, just because of who I was. 

I loved Knives Millions. It was the one thing that kept me going, kept me working for him, even after all my colleagues were killed. When it was just down to Midvally and me, we stood tall, facing the man, Midvally with disguised fear, me with adoration. I had kept my face expressionless, since I knew he'd never feel for me the way I did for him.

And how could he? He despised the human race, hating everyone, at times including his own flesh and blood. He had murdered people at the age of ten. Yes, that's older than some of the Gung-Ho Guns were when they made their first kill, but, for Knives, it was very young, considering his age.

And yet, I dreamed of him every night. I tried to control my thoughts, to stay focused on my mission, but the thought of Vash brought his brother to my mind. The words I said to Vash before he killed me, they were exact phrases his brother had said. I idolized him.

I thought he might have cared for me once, when he gave me Vash's arm. But, it wasn't likely. He just wanted to have an edge over his brother, to submiss him into turning over to his side.

My spirit felt about ready to tear apart as the shrouded figured picked up my lifeless body, and started to carry it away.

Just then, the wind picked up, blowing the mantle away from the form, revealing something I would have never dreamed of.

Knives Millions, carrying my body away, tears running down his cheeks.

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Short, ne? I didn't really know where to take it, and, I reiterate, this was written on recycled air. Legato/Knives fluff, sort of. If you want to review, do so. I just have been somewhat planning this forever, and finally got it down and, well, it's not the best I could do.

--Sunny


End file.
